


May My Music Reach Your Heart

by SocialDisease609



Category: Amar a Muerte (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, Fluff, mariachi au, mariachi juliana, noble lady valentina, sweet 1800s poetic romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDisease609/pseuds/SocialDisease609
Summary: Juliana is a mariachi singer who pretends the songs she sings are words and emotions she wishes to share with Valentina, a regular patron. When offered a one-time singing job, Juliana just might let the passion of art drive her actions.





	May My Music Reach Your Heart

                “You have a rehearsal tonight?”

                Juliana turned around from the mirror, in the middle of creating an immaculate bun, seeing her mother Lupita standing in the doorway.

                “Oh, yes,” Juliana replied, turning back to view her reflection, buttoning up the jacket of her _traje charro_. She loved the suit. Black fabric, golden embroidery, a white undershirt, and a deep, crimson red bow at her neck.

                “I still can’t believe you made that,” Lupita scoffed, smiling. “You have a gift with the needle, _mija_ , why do you waste your time on music?”

                Juliana felt the impact of the criticism, but tried not to let it show. “It’s good to have more than one thing to do with your time…” she replied.

                “Still,” Lupita continued, “It’s better to strengthen your sowing skills, that will make your future husband very pleased. Once we fix your cooking, you’ll be the perfect wife.” She paused for a moment and then resumed. “You look great in the suit though, I’m glad you wear the traditional skirt, too. Have you heard of that one female mariachi who performs in trousers?”

                Juliana sighed and reached for the guitar she kept in the corner of her quaint room. She was stuck a deal with a shop keeper months ago, who let her have it on a loan. She completely paid it off last week, and it was now officially hers, thanks to some very generous tippers.

                Speaking of said tippers, Juliana didn’t want to be late. Every Friday night, the Carvajal family visited the restaurant on the corner of Torres Street, always on the outdoor patio, and the mariachi to make it there first always got their patronage.  

                “When will I be able to see you and your group play?” Lupita asked.

                “Well the other girls are not ready for anything public yet, so I guess when they have the confidence.” Juliana turned around to face her mother once more. “ _Adios, mama_.” Juliana gave Lupita a kiss on the cheek and slung her guitar on her back, making her way out the house.

                She was lying to her mother, she didn’t have a group of women to perform with, she was a solo act, and she had heard of the mariachi who wore trousers, because it was her. The skirt was so long, naturally, that it hid the fact that she had her trousers on underneath. Every time she went out to perform, she would quickly run to the backyard of their small shack and pull out a box she kept hidden under a thick protruding root of a tree. After quickly surveying the area, she would remove the skirt and fold it neatly in the box and put it back in its hiding spot. And then off she went, down the dirt road, passing the other shanties and run down homes of the villages in the outskirts of the city. It was a long walk to the heart of the land, where the elite roamed, but Juliana often enjoyed the walk, and fiddled around with her guitar on the way, playing soft, joyful tunes as she traveled, much to the enjoyment of those who did not have anything to tip her.

                When she made it to the plaza of the city, she turned calmly onto Torres street, seeing the glowing lanterns and candles of her destination. The crescent moon was out and the stars were peppered brightly in the indigo sky, but the real celestial beauty was Valentina Carvajal, sipping from her glass of rosé wine, along with a young man sitting beside her, her family not present today. Juliana envied the man. Shamelessly, she would imagine what it was like to receive the woman’s special attention, to live in a world where she could just simply kiss her hand, she wouldn’t ask for much. But sometimes the imagination was fed by more- from a long moment of eye contact, a lingering smile, enthusiastic applause from her after Juliana finished a song.

                And tonight was one of those nights where Juliana let her imagination become entertained. The wealthy woman watched as Juliana strummed her guitar, holding her glass of wine up, but never once taking a sip, all her attention on Juliana’s performance. Juliana felt her cheeks warm in a blush, nervous under the constant watch. Valentina never watched her this long before. Her voice croaked and stuttered here and there, never had been so self-conscious, but continued her song. She plucked and strummed the strings in a soothing pattern, the vibration of the notes humming against her chest as she held the guitar firmly against herself. She sung of a woman who longed to choose her lover instead of having picking who would make other people happy. It wasn’t her own song, it was an old folk song from the village. The woman of the song loved someone the other residents didn’t approve of, all they could care about is what they thought was best, not what the woman herself knew was best. 

                As Juliana reached the end of the tune, she finished off with a powerful _grito_ , the emotion of the cry piercing even into her own soul. She received applause from the noble family, the dining staff, other elite members of society eating there, and the jealous mariachis hovering at in the background, who made their appearance late. A waiter made his way across the patio to her, a big smile hidden under this mustache.

                “The Carvajals have requested your presence at the table.” He said, beaming. “Come, don’t pass up this opportunity.”

                A lump grew in Juliana’s throat, but she nodded and followed the waiter to the table, where all the eyes of the family looked up upon her arrival.

                “Good evening,” Juliana greeted with a humble nod.

                “Good evening, mariachi,” the man on Valentina’s arm greeted. “Lady mariachi with trousers,” he laughed and took a hearty gulp of his wine.

                “Stop,” Valentina said, coming off a little stern, so she smiled afterwards. She turned to face Juliana. “What is your name? We have heard you play for a few weeks now, you are very talented.”

                “Juliana, Juliana Valdes.”

                “ _Encantada_ ,” Valentina held out her hand.

                “ _Igualmente_ ,” Juliana reciprocated, being gentle in placing her hand in Valentina’s palm for a soft handshake. For a split second, her mind flashed to her fantasy of kissing Valentina’s hand.

                “My family and I really enjoy your music,” Valentina started. “You are very talented, very talented.”

                “Thank you,” Juliana grinned.

                “We were wondering if you would like to be hired for a night?” Valentina continued.

                “What do you mean?” Juliana asked, stunned.

                “My father, who isn’t present tonight, unfortunately, is having a wedding next week. Now, we have already a full band to cover the ceremony and reception, but my father has always liked the environment of a single guitar. I think it would be a great gift for my father to listen to you play the night before the wedding. Relax him of pre-wedding nerves while he has his whiskey before going to bed.”

                “Oh, of- of course,” Juliana stuttered. “I-uh… what-”

                “What is the pay?” The man interrupted.

                “Lucho, stop.” Valentia frowned.

                “Oh, my love, you’re hiring the mariachi. Informing her about pay isn’t rude.” Lucho tried to reassure. “Five pesos for one night, mariachi. Do you accept?”

                Juliana almost dropped her guitar. Five pesos for one night? The average daily wage in the village was around fifteen to twenty centavos, depending on the job. You only made more than that if you were hired to work security for nobility. That was almost a month’s worth! The Carvajals themselves had never really paid her more than twenty-five or so centavos each Friday.

                “I uh,” she immediately became self-conscious. “The quality of my services don’t match the generosity of the pay.” She humbly bowed.

                “Nonsense,” Valentina said. “We have watched you play for weeks. You have immense passion and talent. And you have quiet a variety of songs. We hear a new one from you each performance. Please, consider it.”

                Juliana looked at Lucho, who seemed bored at this business transaction, and then at the waiter who escorted her over here. He was frowning, the wrinkles in his forehead and around his mouth deepening. She knew he was judging her. He told her not to turn it down… maybe she shouldn’t. Perhaps she could impress the Carvajal patriarch and get paid to play for the family for more than one day a week. She would be able to take her and her mother out of the village, buy them a better home, better food, better clothes, cleaner water… and she would be able to see Valentina more often and shamelessly fantasize about her with each performance.  

                “What do you say, Juliana?”

                Juliana suppressed the shiver that came with hearing her name come from Valentina’s lips. “I accept.” Valentina’s smile grew wide and it melted Juliana’s heart. “After all, it is an artist’s dream to be heard, isn’t it? And it doesn’t hurt to entertain a beautiful woman like you.”

                Lucho blinked, and Valentina flushed. Maybe it was too much to say… now she was going to lose the job and will never be able to play at this corner again. “Just because you’re wearing trousers doesn’t mean you get to do everything like a man. We are not interested in comments like that, mariachi…” Lucho warned.

                Juliana flushed, but gritted her teeth and couldn’t stop her eyebrow from raising in irritation.

                “Speak for yourself, Lucho,” Valentina said, straightening her posture. “Thank you, Juliana, for your kind words.”

                “Still,” Lucho grunted, reaching for his wine glass and taking a deep draw from it. “You’re greasing the wrong palm, mariachi. Just because she offered you a foot in the door doesn’t mean she can keep you in the house. Try it on Leon instead.”

                Valentina stood up, catching both Juliana and Lucho by surprise.

                “Where are you going, my love?” Lucho asked.

                “I am going home,” she said simply, her own irritation making an appearance. She turned to Juliana. “I wanted to hire you since your performance last week, so before heading out tonight, I wrote all the details down on some paper before coming here.” She picked up her bag that was draped over her chair and reached inside, pulling out a folded document, and then proceeded to hold it out to the mariachi. “It has the time that you will be required to report and the address. And should you need anything between now and then, you are more than welcome to visit and speak to me.”

                “Thank you,” Juliana smiled, reaching out to take the folded paper that Valentina held out to her. As she grabbed it, her fingers overlapped Valentina’s and she felt ashamed at how warm she became instantly at the touch. It didn’t help that Valentina smiled at the contact. Juliana looked into Valentina’s blue eyes. They were so beautiful. Juliana wondered if she was part Spanish, or maybe part Irish or English, or any of the European immigrants from the American nation. Such beauty. And when she noticed that Valentina was looking at here with the same curiosity, she felt an exciting pull, and she knew it was an instinctual desire to kiss the noble woman.

                “See you then,” Valentina said, as Lucho laid pesos on the table to cover their evening. “Goodbye.”

                Juliana watched Valentina walk away, on Lucho’s arm. She didn’t know how she was going to tell her mother about this one, but she’d come up with whatever lie she needed. Maybe, she could even get a private audience with Valentina as well, and maybe at the end, she’d get her kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> All the cute fluff romantic stuff will be all over chapter two, I promise lol  
> I just had to get this done first.
> 
> ..... someone draw me mariachi Juliana lol


End file.
